Seeing Harry
by apple hearts
Summary: Harry's teacher watches him and Dudley whilst they work. What she sees disturbs her. Mostly cannon compliant


Seeing Harry

I frowned down at the class. Small heads were bent, and the noise of pencils on paper filled the air. Eventually they started to look up. All except one, but that was to be expected.

"Because," I pronounced carefully.

The scribbling started up again. I kept a close eye out on Dudley Dursley to stop him cheating again. He hadn't even had the sense to cheat off someone who would know the answers. Handing out that detention had been satisfying. So was telling his parents he was a no good underachiever who enjoys bullying smaller children (and considering the size of him, there aren't many children smaller than him.)

"Was", I called out. I saw little Harry pick up his pencil eagerly and scribble down the answer. How had the two children ended up so different. Poor little Harry, bullied and unliked, yet so smart. Never answers questions right in class and yet gets perfect marks in written work. Almost like he's afraid to get caught doing well.

"Have," Dudley was looking constipated. He had no doubt not studied and I would be left with the dubious pleasure of informing his parents he was still failing to meet the required standard for his age. As I watched him, he threw the pencil down in frustration and slouched down in a sulk.

"What," As expected, Harry was eagerly scribbling before I had finished the word. Another hundred percent, most likely. He smiled to himself as he worked as if a spelling test is the highlight of the day. Living with such dull and uninspiring people, it probably was.

"And the bonus word for this week is: Except" Harry wrote down the word, Dudley merely threw his pencil on the desk and pulled a sulky face.

"Pass your papers forwards, please." There was a general rustling of papers and small children chattering away. Soon I had all twenty three papers in my hand and a class full of 7 year olds staring expectantly at me.

"You may have free time until the bell goes." I announced and watched as they went of to various corners of the room. Some drawing together, some playing with toys. The only one left at his desk was little Harry. I picked up a book of the shelf on reptiles and brought it to him.

"Would you like to read this?" I asked him. His big green eyes widened and he took it reverently.

"Thanks Miss." He whispered. "I like snakes." The first opinion I had ever gotten of him in the four months I had had him in class. I smiled at him and went to stop Dudley beating up another boy over a crayon he wanted.

He sat there for the whole hour reading his book. After the lesson was over, he brought it up to my desk.

"Keep it," I urged him, with a smile. "It can be your very own book."

"Thanks Miss." He murmured. "But I might rip it." He glanced at Dudley sitting proudly at the coloring table in a plastic chair too small to hold his pudgy bottom. It wasn't Harry who would rip it. "How about I keep it in my drawer for you. You may read it whenever you like." I asked.

"Thanks Miss" He said with a touch of reverence in his voice. Like I was doing something amazing for him. I dismissed the class and went home wondering about the small boy.

I watched him so carefully the rest of the year. Looking for any sign of abuse, any unusual bruises anything I could report, but I never saw anything that couldn't be explained away. I tried to be extra kind to him, knowing that he likely was not getting as much kindness at home as he deserved. I made subtle inquires and not so subtle inquires. I told Social Services that something wasn't right there, but without something specific, they couldn't intervene.

Harry eventually went up to the next class along with Dudley. I still thought of him a lot and when he left primary school, I asked around as to which school he went to. When I found out he had been sent to St Brutus's school for incurably criminal boys, I was devastated. Harry was not criminal and was not hard enough to survive in a place like that. He would become a criminal or not make it through his time there. Both options scared me witless.

One August, I was walking near Privet Drive, when I saw a scruffy dark haired teenager working in the yard of one of the homes. A bellow from inside had him trotting inside, but not before I got a good look at him. He seemed healthy and in one peace and content, and I was so relieved. He was still under the Dursley's thumb but thriving in a way he had not been at primary school. I turned and walked back down the street and out of his life.

I would always think of that little boy. He was special in more ways than one. I was so glad he turned out well, and I'm grateful to whoever managed to bring him out of his shell. I wonder if I will ever see him again and I hope so.

~Finis~


End file.
